The Chosen One
by DystopianPandemonium
Summary: You already know the stories behind the characters of the game Life is Strange, but what if you could see into the villain's eyes, step into his shoes. This is the story, but told from Mark Jefferson's point of view, a seemingly innocent and kind photography teacher. Except appearances are often deceiving ;) I hope you enjoy this! o
1. Chapter 1

**The Chosen One.**

A _**Life is Strange**_ **TM** Fanfiction.

POV: Mark Jefferson.

By Roisin Wallace.

I knew from the moment she first walked into my classroom. The signs were all there from the first time I laid eyes on her; from her brown suede messenger bag swinging softly against her hip, to her tattered faded black converse gently brushing the dust from the ground into the air creating invisible clouds around her feet giving her the aura of an angel, so pristine yet vulnerable with her eyes averted to the floor in shyness, that she was The One. I knew from the first glance of her pure and innocent face, with her soft wisps of brown hair falling just above her shoulders and wavering baby blue eyes that contained as much mystery and magic as the ocean itself. She was going to be next. Sweet, innocent and naive Max Caulfield had it. I just knew it. She had The Gift.

The classroom flooded with students but she was the only one I cared at all for. She sat alone, at the table furthest towards the back of the room. The table was positioned central which provided me with the perfect view point of her sweet, angelic face. Of course, I had to pretend to actually be a teacher, so shifting my gaze from student to student was necessary, however difficult it was to tear my eyes away from Max's milky, pale skin. Time to begin the class.

"Alfred Hitchcock famously called film, 'little pieces of time' but he could be talking about photography, as he likely was." I began, trying to draw in as much focus and attention from as many of the students as I could. I could see some students zoning out, losing focus and becoming easily distracted.

"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory" I continue before pausing to look around the room at their fresh, eager faces, keen to become well known photographers like myself. "And our sorrow; from light to shadow. From color to chiaroscuro."

In my mind I growl in frustration. They weren't paying attention. They had to pay attention to ME. Only me. Time to give them a little slap, call them out and see if they had heard a single word I had just said, or read a single page of the summer reading I assigned them. I look around the room, even my precious Max isn't giving me her full attention, Dammit, what if I'm wrong? What if she isn't the one?

 _But she had the exact same look in her eye that Rachel Amber had, and you were right about her, weren't you?_ My subconcious reassured me, patting me on the back as though to settle my nerves. I coughed loudly to clear my throat, before turning my attention back to the class.

"Now, can anyone give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?" Start off with an easy question, Mark, go easy on them, it is only first thing in the morning after all. Anyone? I waited patiently, hoping my little Max would give me the answer that I wanted but no, her mind wasn't in the classroom, you could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't in the best frame of mind. She looked worried, very anxious. Perhaps that was another sign that she was the one? _I mean, the deer on her top, maybe..._

My thoughts were interupted abruptly as a student called out, "Diane Arbus." I had to look up to see who the student was, and there she was, Victoria Chase with her arm in the air, a smug look on her face because she was obviously used to being right all the time. Even though it wasn't an answer from the student I wanted to hear from, I couldn't help but dance a little internally that someone in the class knew the material and wasn't half asleep.

You could tell at first glance that Victoria was rich, spoiled to the point where she never had to want for anything. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, as some might say. With her pristine haircut and black cashmere sweater with a gold collar showing, her entire outfit just screamed overpriviledged. Most of the students here at Blackwell Academy are, I suppose some might say that this is a school for the elite. Except for my Maxine, the scholarship student of the class. She has raw talent, and didn't rely on money from Mommy or Daddy to get in. She got in all by herself. Good on you Max. But regardless, a correct answer is always that: a correct answer, and a correct answer makes me glow a little inside.

"There you go, Victoria!" I exclaim, unable to mask or contain the enthusiasm in my voice. _Push her,_ the voice of my subconcious whispered into my ear, _Really let her show me how smart she is._ "Why Arbus?" I enquire, pressing further and further for an intellectual answer to give me hope that I wasn't just teaching a class full of wealthy zombies.

She looked pleased that I continued to talk to soley here, of course her answers were for the benefit of the whole class but I bet she was imagining that we were all alone in a big empty classroom together, just she and I, discussing famous photographers and their work.

"Because of her images of hopeless faces." She began, showing promise and intellect, "You feel like, totally haunted by the eyes of those sad mothers and children." She concluded, her pride at her answer shining out blindingly. She really did think very highly of herself. I suppose her answer was right, but she didn't go into nearly enough depth, but it was more of an answer than anyone else had given me in the twenty minutes we had been in the class so far.

It was time to step in, introduce her to the reality of Diane Arbus and her views, which although are intellectual and symbolic, I just didn't agree with. It wasn't so much that I disliked her work, on the contrary; I admire her photography, but she only tends to capture the negative aspects of the world, effectively painting the world as a wholly bad place for everyone.

"She saw humanity as tortured, right?" I watch Victoria nod her head in agreement, "And frankly, that's bullshit." Crap. I'm a teacher, a professional, I'm not supposed to go around swearing, especially not in class time, in front of my students whose families could sue me faster than I could apologise if they felt like it.

I attempt to turn it into light hearted humour, nothing that a charming wink and a husky laugh wouldn't fix. "Shh." I chuckle to the class. "Keep that to yourselves." Another wink won't do any harm, though this one was directed towards Max, though she wasn't paying attention which is actually quite rude. I managed to maintain a light hearted expression before coughing and refocusing on what I was actually meant to be doing: teaching.

"Seriously though, I could frame either one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation." _Crap. Don't let yourself sound too creepy, you need this job. You need this to work,_ my subconcious reminds me with a warning tone. _Proceed with caution_ , it says. _Fix this_ , it says. I scratched the nape of my neck anxiously, frantically coming up with a way to save this in my mind. "Oh, but any one of you could do that too. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious? What if Arbus chose to capture people at the height of their beauty or innocence? She had a brilliant eye so she could have easily taken another approach, another viewpoint." _Good save, intelligent answer, now they'll probably think you know what you're talking about. They probably just think you're an eccentric guy with a passion for photography. Better than them thinking you're some sort of creep I suppose. God Mark, stay focused on the task. Keep your eye on the prize Mark, eye on the prize._

It appeared I had almost _enlightened_ Victoria, my little monologue had flicked some switch inside of her, caused her to turn on her once loved photographer.

"I have to admit, I'm not a big fan of her work, I prefer..." she paused for a minute to think her answer through carefully, "I prefer Robert Frank." she finished, a smirk on her face. She'd obviously seen the photography book on Frank in the wall unit and assumed he was one of my favourites. I had to admit, I do admire his work, but I wasn't going to tell her that, no point in adding flames to the fire of her crush. Besides, I was only really interested in Max.

I looked over to Max, it was obvious that she hadn't heard a single word that had been said in the whole class, she was in her own little bubble, her own world with her nose buried inside her diary that she carries everywhere with her. I wonder what she writes in it, maybe she's written about me in it. What if there's some proof, some evidence that she was The One. I'd have to figure out some way to look inside it, but until then, I'll have to trust my gut instinct and believe she's The One.

I watched her carefully, mentally noting down every little thing she did, every mannersim, which ear she tucked her hair behind, the way she - oh! She picked up her little polaroid camera and held it in front of her face in position to take a photograph. Since she clearly wasn't paying attention to the class, drawing the classes attention to her seemed perfectly fair.

"Shhh." I silenced the class to draw more attention to Maxine, my voice serious yet teasing at the same time. "I believe Max has taken what you kids like to call a 'selfie', a dumb slang word for a wonderful photographic tradition." I paused and looked around the classroom, hesitating as to what to say next. _Do not give the game away, do not lose this early in the game,_ my consciousness warned, glaring right at me, _stay cool, don't say anything you'll regret._ "And Max, has a gift." _FUCK. Why would I go and say that like that, I could've just said that Max was talanted or good at photography. Crap._ I could feel drops of sweat forming around the side of face, collecting in my sideburns. My face was warm and clammy and my stress levels were rising rapidly. _Stay calm, just breathe, no one is onto you yet, you're still safe._


	2. Chapter 2

**The Chosen One.**

A _**Life is Strange**_ _ **TM**_ __Fanfiction.

POV: Mark Jefferson.

By Roisin Wallace.

"And Max, has a gift." _FUCK. Why would I go and say that like that, I could've just said that Max was talented or good at photography. Crap_. I could feel drops of sweat forming around the side of face, collecting in my sideburns. My face was warm and clammy and my stress levels were rising rapidly. _Stay calm, just breathe, no one is onto you yet, you're still safe_.

My pulse returned to a normal pace and my breathing calmed, I needed to stop being so anxious about this. _Just because you fucked up with Rachel doesn't mean it'll end the same way with Max,_ my subconscious tries to remind me. I needed to focus on the present, on the class full of students staring wide eyed, eager to learn. There was an empty table at the front of the class, so I sat on it and gathered my thoughts. _Selfies_. Something everyone in the room could probably relate to, even prim and proper Victoria.

"Of course, you all know that the photographic portrait has been highly popular since the early 1800's." _No Mark, don't do it. Don't do it. Don't wind up in Pun Hell_. The voice of my consciousness begged but I chose to ignore it. "Your generation was not the first to use image for _selfie_ expression." The class groaned loudly at my shameful pun and I held my hands up, my lips forming into a mischievous smirk. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." I add with a chuckle. Some laughed along with me for a second, with Victoria's laugh ringing out above everyone else's, flirtatious and playful. Most, however, were staring at me with vacant expressions on their faces, as if to say "Hurry up, just teach us the material so we can get this over with."

"The point remains," I continued, "That the portraiture has always been a vital aspect of art and photography, well, for as long as both have been around." Max was still in her own little world, still staring down at her hands with that same anxious, dazed expression, almost like a... Well, like a deer in the headlights.

"Max!" My raised voice startles her and she looked up at me looking more lost than ever, like she wasn't even sure where she was supposed to be. But despite this, I couldn't be seen to treat her more leniently than the rest of her peers. They would definitely become a little suspicious at that. And poor Victoria would turn green with envy. "Since you've captured our interest and _clearly_ want to join the conversation," my words drenched with sarcasm, "Can you _please_ tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?"

For a split second, I saw a flicker of fear pass over her eyes. It was the exact same look I had seen with Rachel, right before- _No Mark, don't go there again. Max will be better than Rachel, she isn't Rachel,_ my subconscious informed me, registering the dark place in my mind that I was verging so close to. _You're right, she isn't Rachel_ , I agreed softly in my mind, _but the two of them are so much alike_. I broke out of my train of thought as Max begins to stammer out a response.

"Uhhh." Her voice rose a little as she struggled to come up with an answer. "You're- you're asking me?" It took her far longer than it should have to stutter her way through that sentence and it wasn't even an answer. _Oh Max, you're going to have to do better than that if you want to stay_. My consciousness lets out an evil chuckle, in agreement with me. I had to teach her that there would be consequences, she wouldn't get away with this kind of behaviour for long. The rage started bubbling inside of me, threatening to boil over. _Calm. Don't get out of control again. You saw what happened with Rachel..._

"You either know the material or you don't, Max!" I struggled to keep the annoyance and anger out of my tone, however some still got through. I was so frustrated, this is a class of students here because they _specifically_ came here for photography. It's something they're supposed to have at least a basic knowledge about, yet they're all acting as though they know fuck all.

"Is there _anyone_ here at all who knows the stuff?" This time I didn't even bother trying to mask the frustration in my voice, I was getting more and more agitated with every second that passed and nobody knew any of the material they were supposed to learn over summer break.

"Louis Daguerre." Victoria's voice emerged into the silence, filling the awkward silence that had been for what felt like hours. "Louis Daguerre was a French painter who created what were known as "daguerreotypes", a process which gave portraiture a sharp, reflective style, like a mirror." Her voice was clear and confident, and it was the best answer I had gotten all day. I had to admit, I was impressed. She turned around to face the back of the class, to face Max, and muttered a snide comment to her. I suddenly felt very defensive towards Max, almost very possessive and protective over her, like she was my little doll. But despite those feelings, I was a professional and I had to act like one, which meant praising where necessary.

"Well done Victoria!" I exclaimed, praying silently that nobody would pick up on the fake enthusiasm in my voice. "The Daguerreian process brought out the fine detail in people's faces," I continued on for her, "Making them extremely popular from the 1800's and onwards." The bell rang, the shrill shriek of it only irritating me more than I already was. _Oh crap. The contest. Shit, I forgot to mention it. It's vital to my plan._

"And guys!" My voice was loud, demanding of attention. "Don't forget the deadline to submit a photo for the 'Everyday Heroes' contest. I'll fly out with the winner to the beautiful and photogenic San Francisco, where you'll be feted by the art world. It's great exposure _(ha, nice one Mark)_ and can kick-start a career in photography, which I assume you'll all be interested in." Nothing like the thought of a mini vacation to inspire a class. I could already see the determination in Victoria's eyes. I bet she's just imagining going on vacation with me, just the two of us. _High school crushes can be interesting yet slightly annoying, besides she was crossing the line_. There was absolutely _no way_ I would be going anywhere alone with Victoria, even if that meant rigging the contest to make sure she didn't win. Now Max, on the other hand... Well, Max I could handle being alone with _... My subconscious smirks wickedly and the thought put a little smirk on my face too. Focus, Mark, don't carried away, I had to remind myself playfully._

I moved to the front of the classroom where Victoria was waiting for me. Great. A student who sucks up both _in class_ and _after_. She's clearly so desperate to win this contest. Her words were just going straight over my head, so I nodded and pretended to be interested in her bragging. That is, until Max walked up, and it was like a breath of fresh air to see someone so.. _so flawless_.

"Uhh, excuse me, Mr Jefferson?" She seemed nervous, like I intimidated her? _Am I intimidating? Hmmm. The thought that I intimidated my dear, sweet Max was quite enthralling. Crap. She's was talking to me. Focus on her voice Mark, focus_. "Can I talk to you?"

Before I could answer, Victoria cut in. _"Yes, excuse you."_ Her snide and quite frankly, rude comment triggering a hatred in me I didn't know existed. I turned to face Victoria with a frown on my face and a dark look in my eye.

"No, Victoria." I glared angrily. "Excuse us."

Turning away from Victoria and back to Max, I felt myself become calmer already. Max had such a _calming_ presence, that made me so serene and peaceful. I found myself smiling sternly, but reassuringly at her.

"I'd never let one of photography's future stars avoid handing in her picture." Max looked around the room awkwardly, clearly hesitant on how to respond.

She looked embarrassed at my confrontation, and she folded her arms over her chest defensively. "I- Uh." She flushed, her cheeks becoming a soft rose colour, clearly searching for an excuse, an escape. _She's so adorable when she blushes like that_ , my subconscious teases. "I. I didn't have any time. I had. Umm. Way too much homework." She avoided looking me in the eye, which gave me the opportunity to smirk at this blatant lie.

"Come on Max, you're a better photographer than a liar." I chuckled warmly, causing her to blush even more. "Now I know it's a drag to hear me lecture you and ramble on about this contest, but this is a great opportunity for you and your photography career."

My tone became sterner, and I look her straight in the eye. "Life won't wait for you to play catch up, you know. All you have to have is the courage to share your gi- talent with the world." _Close one. Don't use that word around her again. Careful_.

Max turned and walked away, her shoes leaving little dust prints on the floor on her way out to the corridor. The little voice of my subconscious is nagging me, pressing me for answers. _Are you sure it's her?_ , it says.

And then, around ten minutes into marking summer homework assignments, _it happened_. It started with a flash of bright red light, so bright and dazing that I stopped being able to see. Then the pain came. A pain so breathtaking that it felt as though my head was being stabbed multiple times whilst being prodded with white hot pokers straight through my skull, _all at the same time_. It felt like something was being ripped away from me, like a big part of me was being torn away. _No. This can't be happening. Please_. The pain was overwhelming. I frantically searched through my brain for some form of explanation, some sort of reason why this was happening.

And then, all it once, it struck me. _Someone is going back. Someone, somewhere, is using their Gift, perhaps even without realising it. Someone is turning back the clock. And I would bet anything that it was Max Caulfield, her Gift awakening inside of her, the same way it awakened inside of Rachel Amber and the way it awakened inside of me_.

And then, all of a sudden, it _stops_.

The pain drained away, and the once blinding red light became mere spots of blood red in the corner of my vision.

The bell rings, and my classroom is once again flooded with students.

Including her. Including Max.

She picks up her polaroid camera. Takes a selfie.

 _Shit. It's happening again._

 _I was right._

 _She is The One._


	3. Chapter 3

**The Chosen One.**

A _**Life is Strange**_ **TM** Fanfiction.

POV: Mark Jefferson.

By Roisin Wallace.

 _She picks up her polaroid camera. Takes a selfie._

 _Shit. It's happening again._

 _I was right._

 _She is The One_.

I was right. I was actually right. I knew right from the start that she was special, but, not even for a second, did I expect her Gift to awaken inside her so fast. _But what triggered her? What awakened her?_ The question was at the front of my mind, pressing and nagging, but I didn't have the answer to the questions that were conjuring constantly. But I didn't have _time_ to think about any of these questions, I had a class to teach and I had to have my best poker face on. I needed it today more than ever. She couldn't know I was onto her. But at the same time, she couldn't find out about me. How we have much more in common than a love for photography and the arts. She couldn't know. She just couldn't.

 _The selfie. Think, Jefferson. What was your exact reaction to that selfie? Fuck._ I frantically search through my brain for a memory, but recent events were a blur, like a photo taken out of focus. _Focus, goddammit._ And then I remembered. I drew attention to her. But something told me this time, something would be different.

She's not paying attention again. I remember the questions I asked… _well, before._ But her answer is the same. She still doesn't know the material.

 _She puts her hand out in front of her. There's a searing pain in my head, moving through my entire body. My vision fades to red dots temporarily, and then in less time than it took to start, it was all over._

It's all the proof I need that she's Gifted.

Now, there is no doubt at all.

I have to ask her the question again. This time, she manages to get it right.

This time, Victoria doesn't get the opportunity to insult her. ( _Thank God._ My subconscious is relieved _. One less grudge to hold._ )

A paper ball is still tossed at Kate. _That poor girl has been through enough,_ I'm reminded by my inner consciousness. _You of all people should know that._

I just have to get through this class, do everything exactly the same as before, react the same, say the same things, and change my answer when she goes back to change hers.

She's going over to Kate now, which means she'll be coming over to me next. Victoria is standing with me, and again I'm only pretending to listen. Max walks over to a table in the middle of the room. Takes a picture. _She really is observant, I wonder what that says…_

When she walks over to me, she seems like she's in a hurry, like she knows she has somewhere to be. But where? I can't exactly follow her, but it must be important, somewhere she has to be as quickly as possible. She's trying to sneak out of class, I can't let _that_ happen. I didn't let her last time so I can't let her this time. So I call her back, grill her about her photograph for the contest. Instead of the answer I was looking for, I get an excuse. For someone so bad at lying, she sure is good at coming up with excuses. _She's going to figure out why you want her to enter her photography so badly,_ my subconscious taunts, _she's going to figure it out, and she's going to hate you for it. Just like Rachel Amber hated you._

 _A stabbing pain that lasts a second._

 _A blinding flash of light._

 _And we're back._

 _She answers correctly this time._

 _Stop!_ I wanted to scream at her. Her Gift _wasn't_ to be taken lightly. It wasn't intended for petty use like forgetting an answer in class, or wanting to sound smart in front of your teacher. It was for _life and death_ situations only, it was for taking back something horrible, maybe something horrible you did and regret, or something that could get you into a lot of trouble. _This isn't a permanent thing. If you use it carelessly, it will stop working right when you need it the most. You won't be able to take back your worst moments._

 _I knew that all too well._

She walks away, and I sit down, still recovering from the short burst of pain that she caused me. She had used her Gift a lot since it had awakened, it was going to have terrible consequences. I just knew it.

And just like before, we went back. This time, only about a minute back. The pain isn't so bad this time, but it's still overwhelming to the point that only holding my head in my hands begins to fade the pain. My eyes closed, a shrill high pitched noise. _Fire alarm._ I groan at the thought of having to exit the building. But then I remember. _This didn't happen last time. Something must have happened, Max must have set it off for a reason._ And I was going to find out her reason, if it was the last thing I did.

I step out of my classroom in time to see Max, talking with Principal Wells. She looks pale, like she's about to throw up. I can see the two of them talking, but I'm not close enough to hear what they're saying. _Dammit._ He looks angry, and then skeptical, like he thinks what she's telling him is a lie. But what was she saying to him? I was going to have to find out exactly what happened, what was so important that she had to waste her Gift, that she had to use it so many times in the space of a couple of hours.

Principal Wells raises his voice and I can hear what he's saying to her now.

"We'll continue this discussion, later, in my office." His voice is stern and angry. _What did a student like her do to anger him this much?_ "Please go outside with the rest of your class now, Miss Caulfield." Max walks away, heading to the front doors leading outside. _This is your chance, Jefferson. Find out what really happened._ I can easily get the whole story out of him.

"Hey, Ray!" I start out friendly, shake his hand, smile. He seems a little surprised to see me, but wasn't unfriendly. He looked worried, conflicted, like he wasn't quite sure about what to do with the information Max had given him. _This is your chance, Mark. Strike whilst he's on the edge, while he's a little bit more fragile than usual._

"So, what was going on between you and Max Caulfield?" I try to keep my voice in the write mixture of curious and enquiring, but without verging on nosey. He frowns, and for a split second I think I've irritated him, and mentally prepare myself to be okay with getting no answers. But I guess I was wrong

"Well, technically, as Principal, I'm not actually supposed to talk about students to other members of staff." he began hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "However, since you're her teacher and you've helped me in the past with problems with other kids like Nathan and Rachel, I suppose I'll let the rules slide."

 _My subconsciousness is singing with joy at his words, answers, we're getting answers!_

"I had a little run in with Max, she came out of the ladies bathroom after the fire alarm went off, looking pale as a ghost, and told me that she'd seen _Nathan Prescott,_ of all people, waving a _gun_ around in the ladies room." He looked genuinely concerned for Nathan at this accusation, understandably though, taking into consideration the amount of unofficial strikes he had against his name already.

But a _gun_? Even I couldn't imagine Nathan threatening anyone with a gun, let alone being stupid enough to get _caught._

"Can you think of a reason why Max might lie about something this serious?" I seriously didn't believe that she would accuse anybody of something like this, but then again, I'm clearly not the best judge of character.

 _Of course you're not, just look at what happened with Rachel Am-_ I cut off my subconscious, I didn't want to go back to that dark place, I already see her every single day on missing persons' posters, pinned up and scattered over the ground on campus. It makes me sick, seeing all the posters lying there on the ground, like _trash. Like Rachel Amber was just trash. She deserves better than that._

My train of thought is abruptly interrupted, as Principal Wells replies to my question. "I'm not entirely sure why Max would make something like this up, other than for attention, and I seriously doubt that was her motive, given she's quite a shy girl." He clears his throat, and frowns. " _However,_ I can think of a few things that make Nathan with a gun seem reasonable, although let's keep this off the record, just between you and I. No point in causing touble where it's not needed."

 _Nathan Prescott. Why does everything lead back to you? Why do you attract trouble, and danger, like a magnet?_

I have to find out Nathan's side of the story, I have to hear what he has to say about this situation. I have to know _exactly_ what he knows.

And then an idea hits me, like your stereotypical lightbulb moment. "Excuse me for inturding, but what if I were to speak to Nathan?" I begin, trying not to sound too desperate, like I had an ulterior motive, like there was something in it for me. He looks confused. "I'm his photography teacher." I explain, "A lot of students come to me to talk about their problems, I could find out what happened in the ladies room and let you know. No one on the school board needs to know about this." My mention of the school board is the deciding factor, lord knows we don't need the Prescott family sueing the school, not to mention the fact they're the school's biggest investor so there's a chance the school might have to close if we didn't have their financial support. They've even helped me out financially in the past, so there's _no way_ I was badmouthing the Prescott family, there's just too much at stake. The principal is nodding, a serious expression on his face. "Alright, you can give it a try, although I doubt you'll get very far with Nathan, most of the time it's like talking to a brick wall." He let's out a sinister chuckle. "Most of the time you'll get more information out of a brick wall. Why don't we step into my office, you and Nathan can have your discussion in my office." I agree with his proposal, and we step into his office. It's lush, with books stacked high against the wall and the comfiest, _most expensive_ looking chairs that I had seen in all my time teaching here at Blackwell Academy. He certainly got paid well, that's for sure.

He goes over to his desk, reaches for the microphone that is sitting there, waiting for any messages that had to be announced over the tannoy system. He coughs, clearing his throat, and presses the small button that allowed his voice to be heard all over the school campus.

"Would Nathan Prescott please report to Principal Wells' office. Thank you." He speaks into the microphone, and chills run down my spine, I'm eager for answers.

Ten minutes later, there is a loud knock at the door, and in walks Nathan Prescott. He sees I'm here, and turns to walk away but Principal Wells has just left, locking the door behind him. He looks panicked and flustered, did being in a room alone with _me_ really stress out the "hardcore" Nathan? I move to sit in the Principal's chair. Order him to sit in the chair opposite. Take off my glasses and rest my chin on my hands. I lean forward, closer to him, as though to intimidate him further.

"I held up my end of the bargain." I begin, my voice sinister and threatening, and I can actually see beads of sweat forming around Nathan's forehead. "So, now, it's time for _you_ to hold up _your end._ What the fuck happened today? What was so important that you had to risk everything for, risk everything we've worked for?"


	4. Chapter 4

**The Chosen One.**

A _**Life is Strange**_ _ **TM**_ Fanfiction.

By Roisin Wallace.

"I held up my end of the bargain." I begin, my voice sinister and threatening, and I can actually see beads of sweat forming around Nathan's forehead. "So, now, it's time for _you_ to hold up _your_ end. What the fuck happened today? What was so important that you had to risk everything for, risk everything we've worked for?" The anger is boiling up inside of me, a raging fire that I no longer know if I can control and it terrifies me to my core. For just a second, perhaps even less, something passed over his eyes; fear and anxiety mixed into one perfect concoction that sent shivers of satisfaction down my spine. I slam the palms of my hands down on the principle's desk and he jumps, practically out of his seat. "Talk." This time it wasn't a question. It was a demand and it left him with no choice but to submit to me, answer my questions. More and more beads of sweat were forming and he opens his mouth a fraction, hesitantly, as though he feared my reaction. Well good, he ought to. I struggle to contain a chuckle, instead disguising it as a cough, a threatening one that said 'Hurry up. I'm waiting.'

"She was blackmailing me, okay!?" It was almost adorable to hear the fear in his voice as it rose up several octaves. "She-She knew it was me who drugged her that night." Well that was something I didn't expect at all. That, most certainly, was not a part of our plan. She was not chosen. I am suddenly furious.

"What were you thinking!? What was so important about that stupid slut punk that you had to throw away everything, everything we've worked for?!" I snarl, barely struggling to contain my voice to a reasonable level of volume. And then I can no longer contain it and I erupt, my emotions spilling over and my voice raising loud enough to waken the dead from their graves.

"Well?! Tell me. What was so important?!" By this point there was practically tears running down his cheeks but he hid his fear well, anyone who didn't know what we had been discussing wouldn't have been able to tell from his body language that this was a hostile and threatening situation. But I couldn't help my natural curiosity, this was something I had most definitely not expected. I just couldn't wrap my head around this whatsoever. Suddenly it's like Nathan is angry, and I'm intrigued as to why.

"I just wanted to be like you. I wanted to be able to take photographs like you, to be as good as you!" He roars, visibly shaking with the anger. My subconscious struggles to contain his laughter at this sudden outburst, but especially at the fact that he had the nerve, the audacity, to think that he could be anywhere near as good a photographer as me, a professional with masterpieces published countless times. He stands up suddenly, so quickly that he knocks his chair back behind him, sending it crashing back into the wall. His fists are clenched, his teeth gripped tightly together. "You don't understand! You're like a father to me! I just wanted to impress you." He pauses for breath, his cheeks red and eyes glaring. "No. That's not completely true. I needed to impress you. You had to see that I was worthy. That I was good enough to help with our plans." At this, I chuckles softly, unable to contain it any longer. Tsk tsk. How he didn't see how badly he fucked up this time was beyond me. I turn around slowly, so I am standing with my back to him, and fold my arms across my chest.

"Well you should have thought about that, shouldn't you?" My voice is soft and gentle, like honey. Definitely too gentle, it gives off a sinister vibe. "You should have at least picked a girl who had The Gift. Not some rebel teenager who has the highest chance of blabbing out of all the young women we've posed." I turn around, my eyes ablaze with anger and sigh deeply. "Also." My voice turns cold, and callous. "Never make the mistake again of thinking I am anything which resembles a father figure to you. You mean nothing to me. You're nothing more than a pathetic joke in my eyes, and your photography skills are even worse. You're a liability. A problem I'll eventually get around to disposing of." I smirk cruelly. "Just like I disposed of Rachel after you let me down yet again." The silence was deafening, you could probably hear a pin drop and for a split second I saw a flicker of pain, and betrayal in his once tough and hardened eyes. The silence lasted for at least another minute, the tension building up to an unbearable point, before Nathan attempted to walk around me, and out of the principal's office. On his way, I grab his arm, and spin him to face me, bringing his face so close that he could feel my breath on his cheek. "Don't forget." I threaten. "I'll be watching you." I release his arm, and watch him walk out of the room, and stand up from where I was perched on the edge of Principal Wells' desk. Damn right I'll be watching him. I can't afford for him to fuck up with my precious Max the same way he fucked up with Rachel… Poor Rachel. She never even saw him coming. But neither will Max if I have my way…


	5. Chapter 5

**The Chosen One.**

A _**Life is Strange**_ _ **TM**_ Fanfiction.

By Roisin Wallace.

"Don't forget." I threaten. "I'll be watching you." I release his arm, and watch him walk out of the room, and stand up from where I was perched on the edge of Principal Wells' desk. Damn right I'll be watching him. I can't afford for him to fuck up with my precious Max the same way he fucked up with Rachel… Poor Rachel. She never even saw him coming. But neither will Max if I have my way…

But either way, I had to keep a much closer eye on Nathan. That boy attracts trouble and given his judgement and choices recently, he can't be trusted. My instincts tell me to follow him, keep tabs, and make sure he's not causing any more damage to our mission than he already has. I exit the Principal's office, walking briskly to attempt to see the direction he had stormed off in. If looks could kill then everyone he had glared at as he made his way through the corridor with the flaming hatred of a hundred suns, would have dropped to their knees instantly. He was headed in the direction of the parking lot, although I was unsure about the reasoning behind this when his next class was scheduled to begin shortly. He was a man on a mission, his footsteps thundering and heavy; his pace swift and furious. I have to stay hidden, keep my pace significantly slower than his so I can remain at least a few steps behind him at all times. Nathan kicks open the door, and it swings against the wall in several deafening thuds, causing other students to stop and stare. Of course he can't do anything in a subtle way. I'm honestly baffled at this point as to where he could be going but regardless I should stay on his trail.

He walks across the grass, before heading down the stairs that lead to the parking lot, where Max and her friend (boyfriend? Nah, she's way out of his league.), are stood by what I assume is his car.

I wonder if she plans on telling her friend about what happened in the girls' bathroom today, and if she is, will she end up telling him everything? About the gun and her Gift and the time travel power she recently awakened. She couldn't tell him. She shouldn't. It would put too many people at risk. The whole point is that it's subtle; not to be shown off or abused. Lord knows I learned that the hard way; all those months ago with Rachel. My eyes begin to sting, and I push back the urge to cry. _Not here Jefferson, not now._ I remind myself. _Don't dwell on the past. It was out of your hands._ I need to focus on the present, focus on not letting the same mistake happen again and right now Nathan is clearly doing everything he can to repeat his past fuck up.

As soon as he spots where they are in the lot he heads over. This could get messy; Nathan stirring up more trouble and drawing it yet more attention, however it doesn't feel as though I should intervene. Instead I watch to see how things play out, unfortunately I'm too far away to hear their conversation. It doesn't take a genius to figure out through their body language that their conversation is tense, aggressive. And then her friend intervenes, and that's when things take a turn for the worse, and I watch in awe as in a split second, Nathan head-butts this guy square in the face and holds Max by the throat faster than I thought possible, whilst lover boy lay on the ground clutching his face. In the time it took me to consider going over to them to break up their dispute, there was a screech of tires and a familiar banged up SUV interrupted, clearly stunning everyone nearby. Inside was a girl, no, it was her. The blue haired punk that Nathan had been stupid enough to get involved with our delicate plans. As her car screeched to a stop, Max stood up, her face a mixture of shock and confusion as she recognised the girl, Chloe, I think I recall her name being. Her expression is mirrored on Chloe's face, as though she had no idea she would see her there, old friends perhaps? Unfortunately I'm still out of reach to hear what they're saying but it doesn't matter anyway since Max scrambles into the passenger seat of the SUV and it pulls away, out of the car park and into the heart of Arcadia Bay, leaving Nathan and Warren alone together. Okay so I've known his name all this time but honestly it's _so_ much fun seeing him trapped like a small defenceless animal inside Max's friend zone. The atmosphere between them is still tense and aggressive; you could practically smell the testosterone burning in the air even from the distance away where I was lurking in the shadows. Like a predator no longer interested in teasing his meal, he sulks off and gets in his car, slamming it with enough force to rip it off its hinges, and heads out of the parking lot. I'm under suspicion that he's heading towards the barn, well our Dark Room I suppose you'd call it. I suppose he'll be developing the images he idiotically took of Max's friend Chloe. Who knows how many other young women he'd unnecessarily involved in his pathetic attempt to be just like me, his everyday hero. Pretty pathetic to be honest. My instincts tell me to follow him, to see if the images he's taken were anywhere near the level of quality I take pride in; to see whether or not his images were worth the amount of mess he's no doubt caused for our fragile operation. Time to head to the Dark Room…


End file.
